


it's been said that time heals woes

by slashsailing



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Held Down, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Past Character Death, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashsailing/pseuds/slashsailing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim just has one request, but Bones is reluctant to give him what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's been said that time heals woes

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Stay With Me by You Me At Six—mostly it's because the album is called Hold Me Down which is basically the whole point of this drabble but I didn't want to name it Hold Me Down because why would I do that, that sounds way too sensible for me.

"I'm not a fragile little ornament, Bones. I just—I want you to hold me down and fuck me. Nothing more, nothing less." 

Jim sighs, rolling onto his stomach and pressing his face into the pillow. Leonard watches Jim's shoulders rise and fall as he breaths in deeply, trying to exhale all the pent up frustration that has been building between them ever since Jim was discharged from the care of Starfleet Medical.

"I don't want to hurt you," Leonard whispers. He feels just as helpless as Jim, although they exist in vastly different types of helplessness. Jim knows what he wants but isn't able to get it, Leonard just doesn't have a clue what he's supposed to do full stop. 

"I don't want you to hurt me either, and you won't. I just want you to hold my wrists. Keep me held me down, pin me to the fucking mattress and make me forget everything." 

"Jim, I—"

"I'm not dead. Don't treat me like someone you've lost. Stop treating me as if any moment now I might be gone. I'm not gone, Bones. I'm here. You brought me back. I'm here." 

"I know," Leonard breathes, chest clenching. "God, Jim, I know." 

Leonard's voice is barely above a whisper. Rolling onto his side to face Jim, he stretches his fingers out, grazing the hem of Jim's over-sized sleep shirt and touching the warm skin of Jim's belly. 

"You won't break me," Jim murmurs. Eyes wide with reassurance, he smiles weakly, trying to convince his lover to be just that. His  _lover._

For the past two months, Leonard has been his doctor, his carer, his soundboard, his therapist, his cook, his  _personal ass-wiper_  but he hasn't been Jim's lover. He hasn't been Bones. 

Bones who would punch Jim on the shoulder when he got too cocky or tease him about his childishness when he sulked. No. Instead, Leonard has made concession after concession, trying to wrap Jim up in cotton wool. 

"Fuck me," Jim demands. "I want to  _feel_  you. Jesus, Bones, I  _miss_  you. I miss what we had. I need my boyfriend back, not a nursemaid." 

"You died." 

"Do I look dead to you?" Jim questions, voice raising a couple of decibels as he raises himself up onto his knees. The only thing covering any of his body is a plain white t-shirt—it might actually be one of Leonard's—and Jim just kneels there, bold as brass with a flagging erection holding his hands out, demanding Leonard  _look_  at him, really look at him. "Do I?" 

"Jim—"

"Answer the damn question. Do I look dead? Do I look like a corpse in the ground to you? I'm fine. I'm alive. I'm healthy. And I want you to fuck me." Jim pauses, chest heaving. "Hold me down and make me take it. I  _want_  that, Bones.  _You_  want that. We're no different than before. It's still us." 

Leonard stares at Jim for a long moment, eyes flicking from his strong thighs up his torso to finally look at Jim's face. Young and unmarred, no different to the days and weeks before Khan, no different to the days and weeks before death. 

"You look like you," Leonard agrees. "But you—I lost you. I had to face the prospect of waking up every morning for the rest of my life alone. And now you're back and when I look at you my stomach flips because it ain't real, it can't be. I've been given this second chance to love and protect you an' I can't hurt you Jim, I c—"

"You could never hurt me," Jim whispers, cupping Leonard's cheek. "I look at you and I feel loved. I feel everything I never knew I needed to feel. I feel whole. This," Jim gestures between them and vaguely at his crotch. "The sex is just what it always was, Bones. It's our release. We decide what we need and we ask for it. I'm asking you." 

"You tell me to stop an' I will." 

"I know you will." 

The confidence in Jim's voice—in Bones—surges through Leonard and he nods. "Okay," he murmurs, "okay." Leonard sucks in another breath, setting his hands on the bare skin of Jim's hips and pulling him back towards the mattress. "Lie down." 

Jim just smiles; it's easy and fluid, almost sleepy. Like gloopy syrup it pours over Leonard, surrounding him in sticky, addictive heat. Perhaps Leonard's blushing; Jim puffs out a laugh, guiding Leonard on top of him, like they were before Leonard got that look in his eyes like a startled horse who was moving too fast. 

They kiss slow and deep; a confession, an absolution. Their rebirth. They melt against each other— _into_  each other. 

Leonard drags his fingertips over Jim's ribs, over the edge of the t-shirt where it has ridden up and bunched under Jim's armpits, over Jim's fabric-covered shoulders, guiding Jim's arms above his head. Fingers encircle wrists and Jim sighs contentedly. 

They wait like that for a few moments before Leonard squeezes once and draws back. There's a moment of panic where Jim thinks Leonard is stopping again, but it quickly subsides when he realises Leonard is just fetching lube from the drawer of the bedside table. In no time at all Leonard is back in between Jim's legs, nudging his thighs wide and circling a lubed thumb around Jim's hole, dipping the tip in playfully. 

"You always loved the teasing," Jim says, voice low and grainy. "Almost forgot." 

"Let me help you remember." 

Leonard leans his head to the side to swipe his tongue over the curve of where Jim's knee meets the flesh of his thigh before he pulls his thumb away from Jim and replaces it with the length of his index finger, crooking it just right to elicit a gasp. 

Opening Jim up finger by finger takes time, even during their quickest fumbles Leonard always liked to over-exaggerate the amount of prep Jim needed. But now, now that he's trying to prove a point—about teasing or about protecting, Jim's not quite sure—Jim has to beg for the second finger. 

"I can take it." 

And the third. 

"Goddammit, Bones.  _Please._ " 

When Leonard is finally fucking Jim with three fingers, rubbing over his prostate and sucking small love-bites into the inseam of Jim's thigh, the realisation that this is actually going to happen hits Jim. Leonard is gonna fuck him—after two months of infrequent topping and prematurely terminated kisses, Leonard is  _finally_  going to fuck him. 

Shoving a pillow under the small of Jim's back and encouraging him to hold his thighs to his chest, Leonard guides the tip of his cock to Jim's hole. 

Jim almost forgets the second part of their bargain. Letting go of his thighs, Jim pouts. 

"You promised." 

"Hook your legs over my shoulders," Leonard directs, and Jim complies, groaning at the perfect friction of his cock sandwiched in between their bodies. Then, in one fluid motion Leonard's hands finally leave his cock and their perch on the mattress and retake their hold of Jim's wrists. Jim's almost unable to process the feeling of hands around him with the way Leonard is also rolling his hips forward, sheathing himself inside the tight heat of Jim's body.

"Yes," Jim pants. "God, yes."

"I've got you," Leonard growls, almost like he can't help himself—grip tightening in a similar instinctive fashion. 

"I know, Bones." Jim keens, rutting forward as Leonard pistons against his prostate. "You always do." 

"Never letting go," Leonard pants. "Promise me the same, Jim." 

"I—"

Jim voice cracks; a whine scratches its way out of his throat as Leonard continues to thrust deep and long, relentless. "Oh God." Jim babbles. "Oh fuck." 

And he comes, clenching around Leonard who can do nothing more than grunt as his body shudders and loses it's tight grip on any semblance of rhythm. But the grip of his hands never falter. 

Leonard is still inside him when Jim's aftershocks have finally faded, fingers drawing inane patterns over the veins of Jim's wrists. 

"Promise me," Leonard whispers, trying not to disturb the silence but needing to hear Jim's voice and reassurance. 

"I promise. I'm not gonna let go, Bones. I'm not. You have to trust me. I'm here. You've got me."  

Leonard presses their foreheads together, breathing in the smell of Jim and feeling Jim's heart beat against his own chest. Jim is alive, and he is safe in Leonard's arms. And right now, that's all that matters. 


End file.
